


a bother-figure

by judypoovey



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, no actual pairings but a lot of jokes about yondu/kraglin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 00:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4855619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judypoovey/pseuds/judypoovey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t going to do him any good to get all sentimental and excited about meeting his dad, considering his dad had kidnapped his sort-of-replacement dad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a bother-figure

**Author's Note:**

> I managed to write this entire 8000 word fanfiction without making a single Gilmore Girls reference, but used two episodes of Brooklyn Nine Nine and pretty much only wrote this so I could use the phrase "pelvis pals". 
> 
> Also I know that A) J'Son of Spartax is not Peter's dad in the movies and B) I know absolutely nothing about him in the actual comics so I just kind of used his name and made everything up beyond that so that it fit my agenda, which is probably terrible but eh.

It was bed time on the Milano, and Peter was trying his best to fall asleep, Awesome Mix Volume 2 playing into his ears quietly as he reclined, but like usual, he was always a little fidgety just before bedtime.

Then a call came in, and everyone who had been previously sound asleep was suddenly awake and coming to see what the commotion was. Ever since they’d saved the Galaxy, they got a lot of phone calls, some from Peter’s ex-flings and some from Dey and the Nova Corps asking for help.

This call was not either of those things.

“It’s…Kraglin,” Gamora said, sounding confused once Peter finally turned around. “Should we answer?”

He hadn’t spoken to Yondu or Kraglin since the little troll incident, but he had a feeling if Yondu was pissed about it he’d have heard from them sooner. But this could be another one of their practical jokes. “Go on and answer it.”

Gamora tapped the call and the very familiar face of the Ravagers’ second in command popped up, looking grim.

“Why are you shirtless?” Peter asked as a greeting, taking in the scene before him. “Are you wearing pants?”

“I _was_ asleep. Look, you gotta come aboard, we need to talk,” he said, cutting right to the chase, as was his way. Yondu and Peter were both prone to a bit of blustering, talking a lot and generally being a-holes. Kraglin didn’t talk much; he got right to the point, and was still a huge a-hole.

“Is this one of Yondu’s pranks? Is he finally gonna eat me?” Not that Peter ever actually believed any of the Ravagers would eat him, it was good to play along. Okay, maybe he’d believed it for a while when he was a kid. But not anymore, obviously.

“No, it’s not…” He hesitated, looked over his shoulder and then looked back at Peter. “Yondu’s been kidnapped.” His voice was low, as if saying it would summon something terrible upon them. Like Yondu’s wrath, probably. The rest of the crew didn’t know yet, he guessed.

“Oh. Oh. _Oh shit_.”

A pause. Peter looked at Gamora, who looked at Drax, who looked at Rocket and Groot, and none of them had a word to say to that. Never in his entire life had Peter known Yondu to be in trouble. He was almost untouchable, basically. So this was kind of _weird_.

Kraglin grimaced. “You need to come aboard. We’re nearby.”

“Have you been following us?” Gamora asked, distracted from contemplating how legendary mercenary Yondu Udonta had gotten kidnapped by this new issue.

“Sort of, yes. We need to talk, Peter, so get your ass on the ship.”

\--

The Ravagers were mostly asleep when Peter came aboard, just the minimum to keep the ship running milling around. He found Kraglin in the captain’s chair (he wanted to kick him out of it, Yondu would never let anyone else sit in his damn chair), petting the troll doll’s hair, thankfully wearing a shirt this time.

“So, what is it you need to talk to me about?” he asked, trying to sound casual as he bounced on his heels a little.

“Walk,” he said, getting up and leading the way to Yondu’s room, which was as messy as ever. He wasn’t sure anyone actually slept in this room, because the bed was covered in dirty laundry and starmaps. Kraglin shut the door behind the Guardians and the room was cramped with all six of them standing around awkwardly.

“Your tree is gettin’ bigger,” he said observantly, looking appraisingly at Groot, who was coming in on Rocket’s size. Dey said Groot was likely to grow pretty quickly, so the group was enjoying being taller than them for a little while.

“They are,” Peter agreed. “So what’s this about, man?”

“It’s a long story. And the rest of the crew don’t know about it yet, so…” Kraglin whistled, and Peter flinched reflexively. No arrow, duh. Just a noise, with Yondu gone. “But you’d best not interrupt me telling you what I gotta tell you.” Then he paused. “Big guy, grab Peter and hold him so he can’t flail around,” he added.

“Why?” Drax asked, suspicious.

“For his safety, of course!”

That was enough to convince Drax, who pinned Peter’s arms to his side, ignoring Peter’s protests. “Come on, this isn’t funny. Stop playing around.”

“I ain’t joking. Now, this is gonna piss you off, Peter. I told Yondu we ought to have told you ages ago but he didn’t think it mattered.” He jerked his shoulders in a graceless shrug. “When me and Yondu abducted you, it wasn’t just for kicks.”

That was new. He hadn’t been told much of a story when he’d been abducted, but the logic had simply matched Yondu’s persona: Yondu did what he wanted, and what he wanted was to abduct some kid. Or something. In retrospect, Peter should have seen this coming, because that explanation didn’t actually make any sense. Plus, you know, all the jerks who used to call him ‘cargo’ and stuff.

“We was hired to pick you up after your mama died.”

“Wait, my mom had _just_ died when you picked me up,” Peter said, not making sense of this at all, and flinching at the memory.

“No, I mean, we were hired and told to wait until she died to pick you up. Now quit interrupting.” He was obediently quiet after that, a reflex ingrained in him since childhood. Listening to Kraglin had kept him out of trouble for 20-some-odd years (as opposed to listening to Yondu, which had literally never worked out for anyone ever). “Your daddy hired us to get you. And then Yondu, you know, decided he wasn’t giving you back.”

“You kept me from my family for twenty years?” Peter exclaimed, trying to flail against Drax’s iron grip, just as predicted. They knew him too well, now they really had to die.

“Not _really_. It’s not exactly like we absconded with ya, Peter. Your daddy knew where to find us and knew how to get a hold of Yondu, he just never did, so we kept you.”

That prospect was somehow worse than the idea that his dad had been scouring the galaxy looking for him, or was as Peter had suspected, dead. Ever since he’d found out that his father wasn’t Terran, he’d wondered, and now he knew. His dad knew he was here and hadn’t _bothered_ to look for him.

“What does this have to do with Yondu getting k – wait, you’re not saying my _dad_ did this are you?” he asked, trying once again to squirm out and maybe give Kraglin a solid hit to the jaw for old time’s sake.

“A bit ago, he got ahold of Yondu, after the whole mess on Xandar. Said he wanted you delivered. Yondu told him you was grown now and if he wanted to see you, he’d have to call you his damn self. And neglected to give the old man your contact info, if you’ll pardon him that. Then he hung up.” Kraglin half-smiled at the thought of it.

Peter wasn’t sure if he was annoyed at Yondu or satisfied that he’d told the old man off.

“You gotta see it our way,” Kraglin said, fidgeting a little. “That guy was a jackass. Neither of us liked him a lick, and we liked you a lot. Giving you up didn’t feel right. And clearly, we made the right decision. You turned out pretty all right.”

Gamora made a skeptical noise and Rocket outright snorted, but Groot gave an agreeable ‘I am Groot’ in response.

“At least Groot thinks I’m good,” Peter muttered, a little stung.

“I think you’re an exemplary person, Quill,” Drax chimed in.

“Thank you, Drax. Now, let me go.”

“Is it safe to do so?” he inquired, and Kraglin nodded, so he dropped Peter’s arms.

Without a second thought, Peter lunged at the Ravager, pinning him to the floor with his arms locked around his head, an old wrestling move his older cousins had always used on him as a kid. “How could you not tell me my dad was out there after all these years, you asshole!”

“Come on Peter, I’m too old for this shit,” he groaned.

“Peter, get off of him,” Gamora scolded.

“Are you _sure_ he took Yondu?” Peter demanded, still sitting on Kraglin.

“He left demands, so yeah,” he said with a cough, clawing at Peter’s arm. “I’m gonna bite the fuck out of you if you don’t let me go, you know that.” That he did know, because like all Ravagers, Kraglin fought dirty, and he didn’t need any weird Xandarian infections, so he finally let him go.

“What demands?” he asked, standing up and helping Kraglin back to his feet.

“He’ll trade Yondu for you.” Then he stepped up, punched Peter square in the gut, and opened the door. “You guys can sleep on the ship while you think the terms over, but I’ve got half a mind to tie you up and take you to Spartax my damned self, you _brat_.”

Wheezing, Peter nodded and the Guardians walked out of the captain’s quarters. He held his stomach tenderly.

“You wanna see where I used to sleep?” he asked once he’d caught his breath again. He addressed Gamora personally on this matter, Drax, Groot and Rocket wandering off to find somewhere to sleep that could accommodate all three of them. They were particularly paranoid sleepers, curling up with their knives and guns all the time. Gamora was the same way, but she at least made an effort to conceal it.

“Sure.”

The place on the ship that Peter had called home until he’d gotten the Milano was pretty small now, but it hadn’t changed at all. It looked like Yondu hadn’t even gone through his stuff when he’d left.

“He didn’t even find my porn stash, sweet,” Peter said, jostling the loose panel.

“You’re disgusting,” Gamora said with a fond smile. “He hasn’t touched this room. That’s so strange.”

“Yondu wouldn’t want you to know, but he’s got a real sentimental streak. More than my actual dad, apparently,” he said, feeling no shortage of bitterness about this new perspective. The way his mom had talked about his dad had made him sound so great, but the way Kraglin talked about him made him sound like a jackass. What kind of dad didn’t even come to get his own kid? What kind of dad _hired space mercenaries_ to _abduct_ his kid?

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” he lied. “I’m coming up with a genius plan to rescue Yondu, that’s all. It’s taking up a lot of brainpower.” He had no such plan, but she didn’t need to know that. She sat down on the bed beside him.

“So you’re going to save him?”

“Of course. Do you know how many times Yondu has ransomed me? If we’re ever gonna be even, I gotta start now. I might catch up by the time I’m dead.”

“I can’t imagine Yondu ransoming anybody.”

“He didn’t so much pay my ransoms as maim people.” As dark as that was, it almost made him smile. He had been kidnapped five times in his time with the Ravagers, and each time the ransom had been paid with an arrow through something vital and no units lost.

“Well, that I _can_ imagine. I doubt you intend to do it Yondu’s way.”

“No. I gotta do it Star-Lord’s way.”

“So you’re going to dance him free?” she joked, nudging him with her elbow and smiling so he knew she was kidding, sometimes it was really hard to tell with her, but at least she _tried_ to have a sense of humor. It was great what being among people who loved you could bring out of a person.

“It’s a solid plan!” he said, mock offended. “Go to sleep. I’ll have a brilliant epiphany sooner or later.”

\--

When he woke up, Peter found he had fewer ideas than he’d gone to sleep with, and was distracted by Gamora’s hair in his mouth. Ugh. He sat up, jostling her awake in the process. It wasn’t a big bed, and for decency’s sake he needed to be well away from her when she was conscious.

“Let’s make sure Rocket and Drax didn’t blow anything up while we were sleeping.”

It turns out they hadn’t, but Drax had beaten the face off of an uppity Ravager before they even made it down for breakfast, and as a result they were given a wide berth.

“So, we’re blowing this joint, right?” Rocket asked.

“He’s asking if we’re leaving,” Gamora told Drax before he puzzled it out for himself. It still took a little bit of time, even though he’d gotten used to the non-literal speakers among them, mostly.

“No, I gotta help Yondu.”

“Really? The guy who threatened to kill you three weeks ago? Who you tricked out of an infinity stone? We’re helping that guy?” he asked, clearly not impressed.

Peter didn’t feel like ruining their image of Yondu as a scary space badass, so he went with it. “Yeah, we’re helping that guy! I just don’t know how yet.”

“You don’t even have a plan?” Rocket snapped, banging his head on a nearby table and groaning. “Idiots.”

“I have a perfectly good plan,” Kraglin said, walking up. “Give you to that piece of shit J’Son of Spartax and get Yondu back and then _you_ figure out the rest.”

“I’m going to come up with a way better plan than that,” Peter snapped, ignoring the fact that he now knew his dad’s real name. It wasn’t going to do him any good to get all sentimental and excited about meeting his dad, considering his dad had kidnapped his sort-of-replacement dad.

 --

“Okay, we’re going with your plan,” he told Kraglin after a full day of thinking. “I’ll turn myself over to my dad and you’ll get Yondu back and then my guys will take care of me.” He couldn’t believe that was the best they had, but he didn’t exactly want to engage a mysterious alien species (that he happened to be part of) in combat or anything, not even for Yondu.

“Good, I was gonna do that whether you wanted to or not,” Kraglin said. He looked very tired, and definitely hadn’t slept since they’d come aboard.

“Are you okay, man?” Peter asked quietly, a few paces in front of the nearest listening ears. Ravagers didn’t express weakness, not in public. “You look like shit.”

“Good, then we look about the same,” he shot back in a thin voice. “I just wanna get Yondu back and get on with our lives, okay kid?”

“Right,” he said, letting him walk away and waiting for Gamora, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you think Kraglin and Yondu are…pelvis pals?” she asked, watching curiously.

“What in the hell, Gamora?” he almost screamed, his voice oddly strangled. “That is completely…” But then he thought about it. And then tried to erase the thought entirely. “My entire childhood has been a lie.”

\--

“Also, pelvis pals is a terrible way to phrase that,” Peter said later, once he’d sat in a shower and cried about it for a couple of hours. They never spoke of it again. “And still, completely and one-hundred percent not what’s happening. They just, you know, hang out together all the time and don’t have any friends or hobbies.”

\--

The trip to Spartax was a long one, as it was at the far end of a completely different quadrant, so he had a lot of time to go over the finer points of his not-plan.

“No one seems to have any idea what’s waiting for us on Spartax, so we can’t really make an informed decision about how you’ll even escape when we make the trade,” Gamora said, in a tone that said very clearly how much she didn’t approve of this plan. It was sloppy, it was half-cocked.

She was worried about him, and he was flattered.

“Dey couldn’t even tell us anything about it,” Peter added, unhelpful. “He said not even Nova Prime had heard of it.”

“This is stupid, Quill, let’s just leave and let the Ravagers figure out what to do about Yondu,” Rocket said for the fiftieth time, probably full well knowing that nothing of the sort would ever happen. The presence of Peter’s father in the situation had made discussing it delicate and terse for everyone, except Rocket, who was never delicate about anything, though he was always terse.

“Look, it can’t be that hard, right? I’ve broken into plenty of places. And out of. I can figure this out.”

“Well, the last time you broke into a palace, you got arrested.” Peter almost said something because the Guardians needed to hear the Gramosian Dutchess story on his terms, not everyone else’s. Then he stopped short.

“A _palace_?”

“Did I not mention this guy is an Emperor?” Kraglin asked, all faux-innocence as he lurked around the Guardians’ daily bickering session.

“No you did not.”

“Oops.”

 _Dick_.

\--

Someone from Spartax called in when they were in orbit.

“Who is arriving?” they asked.

“The Ravagers, with a delivery for Emperor J’Son,” Kraglin said, in his most diplomatic voice, which was pretty much his regular voice with fewer dropped consonants, to Peter’s ear at least. “His son, as requested.”

The Spartoi, who didn’t look too much different from a Terran to Peter, blinked in shock and then nodded, allowing them to land, not that they had done much asking for permission. The palace loomed ahead, shimmering like a mirage, and a band of what appeared to be warriors greeted them as they stepped out of the ship.

“Emperor J’Son says that your friends are welcome aboard Spartax, Peter Jason Quill. But no Ravagers will be allowed past this point.”

So Peter turned to say goodbye to Kraglin and his men.

He might as well have been 8 years old again when he looked behind him, the way all of them were watching him, that mix of apprehension, affection and annoyance they always reserved just for him. “See you soon?”

“Yeah, kid.” He didn’t smile, but that was normal.

\--

The Guardians waited in the main entrance of a truly extravagant palace, all of them taken aback by the opulence.

“How many units you think this is worth?” Rocket asked Groot, examining a piece of ornate pottery sitting on a pedestal.

“Don’t steal anything,” Peter said, smoothing down his hair and grimacing. Negotiating tactics didn’t feel wholly necessary in this situation, but he felt like J’Son of Spartax was making them wait for some reason. He wanted to believe it was a good reason.

“Hello, hello,” someone finally said, walking into the room. The man was a little taller than Peter, with reddish hair going gray, and he looked very much like a Terran, but he wasn’t. Peter had learned how to tell different humanoid aliens apart a long time ago; this man was no more Terran than Kraglin or Nova Prime, though to an uneducated Earthling eye, they would look perfectly human. “It’s good to see you in the flesh.”

Peter wasn’t sure he could say the same, but let his dad grab him by the arms and give him a once over.

“You look well-fed at least,” he said. “I’m sorry for how I brought you here, the Ravagers don’t do anything for free, and I don’t pay for contact information. That would be ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Peter said stiffly.

“I’m J’Son of Spartax,” he said. “Your father.” They did look a little alike. Of course, Peter was more dashing and totally handsomer, but he could see a passing resemblance. “And these are your wonderful teammates! Gamora, Drax, Rocket and Groot, yes?” He smiled, and Peter felt himself relaxing a little.

The team all seemed a little uncomfortable saying hello.

“So, uh, _dad_ , are you going to give Yondu back?” he said, remembering why he was here in the first place, pushing down his own relief and trying to stay on track.

“Of course! No harm has come to him, if that’s an issue for you,” he said, but something in his tone made Peter feel like maybe he thought Peter shouldn’t care, one way or the other.

“It is. Bring him out and then let him get back to his ship, there are people there anxious to get him back,” he said.

“Of course.”

Yondu came out flanked by guards who looked too afraid to touch him. His scowl deepened when he saw Peter.

Ungrateful, as usual.

“What the hell, Quill?” Not a ‘thanks for bailing me out, Quill. I raised you right.’ Not a shred of gratitude at all. “Obfonteri put you up to this?”

“I mean, there were veiled threats, but this is my choice. I’m a grown up.”

Yondu stepped up, and though Peter was taller, something about looking at him made him, once again, feel a little bit like a kid. He put a hand on Peter’s shoulder and frowned. “Well, hell, kid. You don’t gotta…”

“It’s my choice. You get to go home, I get to be around my dad,” he said, grinding out the words. “You can’t keep me away from him forever,” he added, no shortage of bitterness in his tone.

Yondu growled in irritation. “Son…” He stopped himself from finishing his thought, a rare thing for a man as honest as Yondu Udonta. “Take care of yourself.”

Then he turned and left. Peter looked at Gamora and tried to hide his guilt with a shrug.

\--

The sharp whistle was inevitable, but it was a sign that Kraglin Obfonteri had been on the receiving end of a lot of empty threats that he didn’t even flinch when the arrow threatened to embed itself right between his eyes. The rest of the crew slunk away, none of them keen to be collateral in a fight between the captain and first mate. They’d been there before, and it was never pleasant.

“The hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinkin’ we were short a captain,” he replied.

“You didn’t have to send the boy.”

“He volunteered, and he’s _grown_. He can figure the rest out on his own, it ain’t our problem,” he said, the arrow in his face rotating menacingly. Yondu didn’t like his answer, but didn’t have much of an argument. “The longer you stayed there, the more people start thinkin’ you’re gone for good. That we need a new captain. And that usually means a dead first mate. You know, _me_? They didn’t know you weren’t there voluntary-like. That’s a hard lie to keep tellin’.”

The arrow dropped, but Yondu still slapped him across the back of the head, not all that hard. “That fucking Spartoi jackass is up to something. Twenty-six years we didn’t hear a damn thing from him and now that Quill’s good and famous he calls up. I don’t like it.” He apparently was not holding his own kidnapping against him, at least.

“I don’t like it neither, sir,” Kraglin said. “But Quill made the decision. He’ll call if he needs help. He always does.”

Yondu scowled, but the argument was settled, at least for now.

\--

Peter was, begrudgingly, having a good time. He was walking in an elaborate garden behind the palace with Gamora. They had eaten nothing but the finest cuisine (Peter no longer asked questions about food when it was given to him. Demanding Earth food in space was a habit he had quickly broken, and he’d never been a picky eater to begin with), been given clean, spacious rooms, wardrobes full of clothes tailored just to them, and palace hands at beck and call.

Needless to say, everyone except for Peter was miserable.

J’Son of Spartax had been the most generous host.

“I don’t trust him,” Gamora said as they walked together. “How can you trust him?”

“He’s my dad, Gamora, what am I supposed to do?”

“Just exercise some caution, Peter,” she said, being ever the killjoy. “After so long, he just decides he wants to get to know you?”

“Excuse me, he didn’t know where I was until now, you can’t blame him for that,” he interrupted, his expression darkening.

Gamora rolled her eyes so hard he was sure they’d pop out of her head. “You think that the Emperor of a wealthy planet doesn’t have the resources or abilities to find a fleet of Ravagers? You think he hadn’t heard of the antics of Star-Lord?”

Peter shrugged, simultaneously mollified and unable to consider the facts being given to him.

“Prince Peter,” someone said at his elbow. A short Spartoi palace worker glimmered, an inconsistent hologram. “Your father his Mightiness would like to have a private dinner with you tonight.”

“I’ll be there,” he told the hologram cheerfully. It immediately disappeared. “See? He just wants to hang out. You just have issues about trusting fathers. Completely justified, but in this instance you’re wrong.”

Gamora’s lip curled. “I’m just looking out for your best interest, Peter.” With that, she walked off, a distinctly angry hunch to her shoulders.

\--

“Rocket, I need your help,” Gamora said, while Peter got ready for his dinner with Emperor J’Son.

“What’s up?” he asked, stopping the arduous process of grooming his fur to look at her.

“I’m going to call Yondu, and I need you to help me set up a relay so no one in the palace can find out I called him,” she said. It was a paranoid plan, but she wasn’t the Galaxy’s Deadliest Woman because she wasn’t careful. They didn’t need to know that she was talking to Ravagers.

“Should be easy. When?”

“Soon. Before we eat dinner.”

“I’ll go get Groot. Should I bring Drax?” he added.

“Sure. He can make sure no one comes in the room.”

“Is this gonna be a particularly involved conversation? Are we talking like, a bit of the ole Call-No—”

“Don’t even finish that thought,” she said with an involuntary shudder. “It’s not funny.”

So a little while later, they all met in Gamora’s room, with Drax sitting by the door, listening intently for approaching footsteps, while Rocket wrestled a little metal device that would keep their call private, and Groot enjoyed the Spartax suns in the window.

Yondu didn’t answer, but one of his Xandarian crewman did, and when Gamora asked, he transferred the call to the captain.

“What the hell do you want?” he asked, scowling at them.

“I want you to tell me about Peter’s father,” she said, sitting down and crossing her arms over her chest as she looked up at the screen his face populated. “I don’t trust him, but I don’t know him. You do.”

He raised an eyebrow, but grinned nonetheless. “I’m glad Quill found himself a woman with a bit of damn sense.” He ignored the color in her cheeks. “I can’t tell you much about J’Son, it’s not like we were _friends_. He hired me, I did the job, that was that.”

“And then he abducted you from your bed 26 years later,” she added.

“Spartax is an old planet. It ain’t got no Empire allegiances, it’s alone in an empty quadrant. Ruled by an Emperor. J’Son, well. He’s an ambitious fella. I never thought much of him.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he’s a jackass.” Then a pause. Yondu rubbed his chin, thoughtful, for a second. “I don’t have much to say about a guy that blasts off to a primitive world, knocks up a local, and then don’t even bother to collect the kid when it turns out it needs a home.” Even Ravagers, who likely had bastards at every port from Xandar to Knowhere, seemed to frown upon that level of dishonor. Gamora found herself, unexpectedly, on their side.

“Did he ever tell you why he didn’t get Peter himself?”

“Political tensions makin’ it hard to leave Spartax, supposedly. I figured he was just too lazy,” he said. “I don’t see how this is helpful, girl.”

“I just want to know what we’re dealing with. Peter won’t see sense. He’s too happy about his father.”

“Ain’t nothing new there. Never grew out of that shit.” Yondu smiled again, but then he frowned. “He’s made a decision, though, and no one in no galaxy gonna change his mind but himself.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Gamora said.

\--

Peter was ready for dinner. As pathetic as it sounded, he was looking forward to spending some one-on-one time with his father. After so many years of wondering who he was, now was his chance. He wasn’t going to let his friend’s skepticism get in the way, either.

J’Son of Spartax sat down across from him, looking genial, middle aged but fit.

He wondered what they would talk about. Sports, maybe? Wait, did Spartax have sports? He didn’t know anything about Spartax’s sports!

“I think this is the right time to get to know one another,” he said, and Peter nodded in agreement. “I want to know how your life has been up until now. I can tell you’ve grown to be a great man in spite of your circumstances.”

In spite of? Peter let it slide off of him, a jab at his upbringing that felt a little unfair from the guy who had left him to a bunch of space pirates. But no big deal. “I mean…well, before Mom died, I was fine? I went to school and hung out with my family mostly. Didn’t have friends except for Mom…” He had gotten past the point of being unable to talk about his mom, but it still kind of hurt. “Then with Yondu, well, I had a lot of friends at least?” He shrugged.

J’Son of Spartax clearly had some Ideas about how Peter’s life had been up to that point, and his face revealed a bit of confusion. “That can’t be a great place for a boy…how old were you? Six? Eight?”

Peter honestly didn’t even remember. “Something like that. It was fine. Ravagers don’t see no sport in picking on something smaller and weaker than them if they ain’t got nothing valuable to steal. Yondu says they wanted to eat me, but I don’t know. He mighta just said that shut me up when I got uppity. Always worked.”

He made a little noise. “You sound fond of Udonta.”

“Well, no offense Dad, but he was all I had for a long time,” he said, a wave of bitterness hitting him. No, he wanted to be nice to his dad, because it was his dad and he was here now. He didn’t need to obsess over the details.

“I made a mistake, sending him for you. Spartax was in the middle of a trying time, politically, I had only just been seated as Emperor and could not go a galaxy away to find you. I realize I could have waited until things calmed, but I did not think you would have much use for Terra after the death of your mother.”

“I mean, I still had grandpa and my aunts and uncles,” he muttered. “But I had a good life in space. So, I guess, it all worked out.”

“It did. I’m well-versed in your criminal record –”

“Dey said he expunged that!”

J’Son just kind of smiled. “But I’d like to know about you and your Guardians. I think you should tell me about these Infinity Stones.”

Peter leaned back in his chair, the creeping suspicion that J’Son of Spartax didn’t want to get to know him coming over him.

\--

Peter burst into the room that the others were hanging out in very suddenly, and very angrily, grabbing his backpack and stuffing things into it with no regard for whether it actually belonged to him or not.

“What’s going on, Quill?” Rocket asked sleepily.

“We’re leaving, that’s what’s going on,” he said.

“What happened?” Gamora asked, sitting up and stretching.

“He just brought us down here so we’d resteal the Infinity Stone for him!” he said, getting tangled in his headphones’ cord and topping over in his anger, punching the carpet. “He thinks we can just pull a fast one on Nova Prime! What the hell?”

“Did he explain his reasons?” Drax asked from where he was pruning a fussy Groot’s out of control branches.

“He figured that since my Spartoi DNA is why I could hold it, it would be safer on Spartax! He didn’t care about me at all, ever. I should’ve _known_ he wasn’t that great,” Peter said, mostly to himself, as he untangled himself.

A few minutes later, with as much stolen shit as they could carry between them, they headed to the Hangar where the Ravagers had parked the Milano for them.

Their exit, however, was blocked.

“You’re leaving so soon?” one of the guards asked, eyeing their armfuls of valuables.

\--

“I dislike that you’ve been in contact with the Ravagers,” J’Son said when they were all gathered, like a bunch of kids in trouble for something stupid.

“What?” Peter hissed. “You called Yondu?”

“That was supposed to be a private line!” Rocket protested, missing or ignoring the point. “That’s really rude!”

“Of course we called Yondu,” Gamora hissed. “You were being completely unreasonable.”

J’Son cleared his throat. “I was hoping you would be reasonable and see my perspective on this, Peter. I think you’ve spent too much time among thieves and murderers,” he said, pointedly looking around at the Guardians. “You’ve lost the ability to trust.”

“I do trust, just not you,” he said, leaning back in the seat and sulking. “Are you going to let us leave? We’re not going to help you, and we’d like to go. We have a galaxy to protect.”

“Your mother would want you to stay here with me, Peter,” he said.

“You don’t know anything about my mom then,” Peter replied, trying very hard to stay calm. “She wouldn’t want me to do what you want me to do. She’d want me to stay true to myself.”

“Yourself being a second-rate outlaw.”

“I’m an adult, you can’t keep me here,” he said, standing up so hard he knocked over his chair. The rest of the Guardians followed him out, but they found the docking bay where the Milano was parked inaccessible, and all of their possessions had been confiscated.

“How do we get out of here now?” Rocket demanded.

“I thought you were a master of escaping places,” Peter said, his idea for their escaping entirely hinging upon Rocket’s ability to think of something.

“Palaces are not exactly where I often find myself, Quill. It requires a different approach. I can make a plan, but it might take more time. You sound like you’re in a hurry.” Rocket sighed, pulling a little holotab towards himself and pulling up what looked like building schematics. “Now, I have an idea to get us out, but you won’t like it.”

“The only plan I wouldn’t like is agreeing to J’Son’s plan,” he said.

“So he’s not dad anymore?” Gamora asked, a little sarcastic.

Rocket ignored the jab. “We call Yondu.”

“I can’t ask him for help,” Peter said, dropping down into a chair and hiding his face in his hands, because the truth was, he hated asking Yondu for help, and he was sure Yondu would never talk to him again after he’d rolled over and showed his belly to Spartax so quick.

“He’d help us,” Drax said, oddly confident.

“Yondu is the reason we’re here,” Peter pointed out.

“Your _father_ is the reason we’re here,” Gamora corrected. Groot agreed.

Peter groaned, staring skyward and wondering what celestial being had rolled a shitty pair of dice and decided that Peter got a handful of crappy dads, no mom, and the worst luck in the galaxy.

\--

The crew of the Eclector had weathered captains and first mates of all shapes, sizes, genders, races, ages, and everything in between. Sometimes, Captains and First Mates got along great and the crew prospered for it. Sometimes, the First Mate was nothing more than a mutinous snake waiting for the chance to take over the captain’s seat.

Very rarely did the captain and first mate get along quite as well as Yondu Udonta and Kraglin Obfonteri did. Usually.

However, since Yondu’s impromptu trip to Spartax, neither had been too happy with the other. The crew could handle fights; that was Ravager bread and butter. They had seen their fair share of fights between Yondu and Kraglin, and more than their fair share where the two teamed up on someone very unlucky. They could deal with it.

What Ravagers were never quite prepared for, however, was passive-aggressive sniping and bitterness. One frazzled crewman was tempted to beg them to just _actually_ fight, instead of just snapping and glaring at each other. It was very on-world of them, like they were a pair of rich Nova jerks who couldn’t lift a hand to punch someone they didn’t like. They had yelled once, something about ‘sentimental’, ‘diplomatic’, ‘irresponsible’, and at least two very loud proclamations that Yondu could go fuck himself. It was a tense evening.

But the crew endured. No one knew exactly why they were both so ticked off, but they figured it had something to do with Quill going to Spartax, because Yondu didn’t like it when the Terran kid got into bullshit, and Kraglin thought he was old enough to handle himself. That was the rumor, at least, and gossip traveled fast on the ship.

Neither captain nor first mate would talk about it, or directly to one another, instead talking through whoever was closest by, or ignoring each other, and making rude faces behind each other’s backs. It was a sign of how very well they got along, however, they neither of them had murdered the other yet. Half the crew believed it was just a matter of time. The other half of the crew just prayed for something, anything, to change.

 “We gotta call, Captain,” the closest, unluckiest crewman said, peaking around the corner at them where they sat on opposite sides of the room, not facing each other. “It’s from Peter.”

“I’ll take it in here,” he said, and the picture of Quill that had always been his picture popped up and he answered the call. “What is it, boy?”

“I need,” Peter said, taking a deep breath. “Your help.” It looked and sounded very much like the request pained him.

Yondu remembered the last time Peter had asked, explicitly and of his own volition, for help. He had been 12, arrested for something on a Nova planet, with no units for his own bail. Since then, sure, Yondu had helped him a lot, but he hadn’t been _asked_.

“I thought you were training to become Emperor Jr, boy,” he said, because Peter had inherited a fragile, petty pride from _somewhere_.

“He wants us to steal the Infinity Stone for him, Yondu. He didn’t care about me at all,” he muttered, staring away from the screen as he did. “They won’t let us leave, they’ve got my ship and all of our stuff locked up.”

Yondu looked over his shoulder, his face practically screaming “I told you so” at his first mate, who responded with a very vulgar hand gesture he’d learned from Peter.  “What do you think I can do?”

“You’ve got an army, right? Threaten to blow them away!”

“I thought we were more _diplomatic_ than that,” Yondu said, again taking a swipe at the man standing behind him.

“We could break out on our own but it could take weeks, and by then they could send someone over to Xandar and try something without us there to warn them,” he said, sounding increasingly desperate. “And if Nova attacks Spartax, a lot of innocent people would suffer.”

Yondu frowned. On the one hand, letting the boy squirm was always rewarding, on the other, he was still sore about the whole kidnapping thing, so letting Spartax have it sounded it nice.

“We’ll see, son.”

\--

“This is ludicrous,” Drax said to Gamora, sharing their meager breakfast with her. “I was a father, and I would never have done anything like this to my daughter. I could never force her to do something she didn’t want to. Well, other than eat her mother’s cooking,” he said.

Gamora put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Well, you were a much better father than J’Son of Spartax.”

“You got that right,” Peter muttered, sulky as he stared out the window. This was their second day of outright captivity. No one knew what to expect, but J’Son had dropped all pretenses of hospitality, as if starving them out would make them more likely to reveal the secrets of the Infinity Stones, which they didn’t even really know.

“Mister Quill, you have a guest,” the guard outside of their door. It slid open and they were allowed outside, and led to the main hall of the palace, where his father was talking to, most unsurprisingly, Yondu Udonta.

“Good, you’re here,” J’Son said. “Now, why are _they_ here?”

“We needed a ride home,” Peter said immediately, bouncing on his heels. “It was great to see you, Dad, we’ll be going now.”

“What makes you think I’ll just let you stroll out of here?” he asked, a little miffed.

“’Cause if you don’t,” Kraglin said. “One of our men conveniently on Xandar right now will be informin’ Nova Prime that there is a plot to steal an Infinity Stone from her,” he said. “A bit inconvenient, yes? Ever since we helped save Xandar, they’re pretty easy on us there. So her Primeness will trust us, and not feel bad about engaging a backwater planet no one for three quadrants has heard of.”

That was pretty much the most Peter had ever heard Kraglin say at once. He felt like this was not by choice.

Yondu laughed. “I don’t want to fuck you over, J’Son. Really. The way I see it, you go on living your life, and we go on living ours. Maybe you send a card on, whaddya call that thing, Pete?”

“My birthday?”

“Yeah, on his birthday, if you know it. If you don’t, I can tell ya.” He chuckled again, the picture of someone gleefully enjoying the sound of his own voice.

“And if I don’t allow any of you to leave?”

“Well, I’ve got an army of Ravagers who can tell you why that’s a bad idea. They’re in orbit right now, and your planet ain’t big, Emperor. It would be best for your citizens if we didn’t divebomb your cities.” Yondu had mastered empty threats early in life, and anyone would have believed him right then and there, if they didn’t know Yondu.

J’Son turned on Peter. “I thought you were a guardian of the galaxy,” he said.

“I thought I was a second-rate outlaw,” he snapped back. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt, Dad, but I don’t want to stay here. So the mature thing to do is let me go.”

“I really did want to get to know you, Peter.”

“Well, I know everything I need to know about you. You’re a jackass,” he said. “It’s too late, man. Let us go.”

“Fine. We’ll allow you to leave.” He looked defeated, older than he had when they had met. “Do it quickly.”

Peter turned, but Yondu held out a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “I want all of their things,” he said. Peter hadn’t even thought about it. His backpack had been confiscated when they had been busted two days ago. His Walkman was in there, and he’d been too anxious and too tired to miss it.

“They’ll be returned.”

“I want it now,” he said. “I want his guns and their knives,” he said, gesturing to Rocket, Drax and Gamora. “And I want Quill’s backpack, and his music box. Now.” Yondu was no longer having fun. Never at any point had he been negotiating, and now that an exit was imminent he was ready to go.

Peter wanted to thank him, but Ravagers didn’t do that, not in public, so he kept silent until a meek looking Spartoi guard returned with their items. He made sure to check his backpack for all of his things before they walked out, the Milano sitting beside Yondu’s own ship, waiting for them.

“Man, they didn’t fold my clothes, that’s rude,” Rocket complained when they were strapped in and ready to go.

\--

They had to refuel, and rest, so they parked the Milano on the Eclector and once again mingled with the Ravagers. Everyone seemed a little jumpy and tense, he guessed that Yondu hadn’t been a fun captain after his kidnapping.

He caught Yondu alone a little while later. “Hey, I just wanted to say thanks for bailing us out. Great bluff back there,” he said, leaning in the doorway.

He didn’t even look over at Peter, just jerked his shoulders and muttered a ‘no problem’.

“And, I think maybe I should thank you for keeping me when I was a kid,” he said. “Meeting my dad made me realize I wouldn’t be who I am now if you’d taken me to Spartax,” he continued, just letting the words filter out of his mouth without a second thought, realizing only after the fact that they were veering very close to ‘sentiment’ territory. “So, and don’t get a big head about this, you’re probably the reason I turned out half-decent.”

Yondu looked over at him them, smirking a little. “Well, damn right. About time I got some gratitude.”

“Aw, see, you ruined it, now I gotta go give Kraglin all the credit,” he joked.

“You’ll have to wait, he’s in the shower. And he’s lucky I don’t throw him in the brig, way he’s been acting.”

“Come on, man, I don’t need to know what weird shit you two do when I’m not here.”

\--

A few days later, they were refueled and ready to go, and saying goodbye the Ravagers, who were pretty much pushing them towards the docking bay, ready for them to leave.

Yondu and Kraglin had come down to say goodbye, much to Peter’s surprise.

“Well, we’ll see you around,” Peter said. “Hopefully not any time soon.”

“I am Groot,” Groot interjected.

“Yeah, I know they aren’t that bad,” Rocket muttered.

“You didn’t do too bad, Quill,” Yondu said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good job.”

“Thanks, Dad,” he said, averting his eyes. Then he noticed the quiet staring. “Uh, why is everyone staring at me?”

“You just called Yondu dad,” Gamora said, looking a little concerned. “You said ‘thanks, Dad.’”

“No I didn’t, I said thanks ‘man’!” he insisted, looking a little stricken as he watched the disbelieving faces of his team.

“Do you see me as a father-figure, Quill?” Yondu said, his arm draped around Peter’s shoulders.

“Uh, no,” he said, sarcastically. “If anything, I see you as a bother-figure. Because you’re always bothering me,” he said, trying to shake him off.

“Hey, show your father some respect!” Kraglin said, trying to fend off his laughter and maintain a straight face.

“I didn’t call him Dad!” Peter shouldered his backpack and stormed towards the Milano as the rest of his traitorous friends laughed at him.

\--

“I think we need to go find another kid,” Yondu said one day, when he was particularly bored, walking away as soon as he said it.

“Sir, _no_!” Kraglin said, chasing after him.


End file.
